Unwanted And Bitter: the Perfect Pair
by Princeofclowns
Summary: A story following John Egbert and Dave Strider who suffer separate but equally devastating tragedies. A more thorough summary lies inside.
1. Chapter 1

John Egbert never asked to be born. Some days he wondered if it would be better if he wasn't. Of course it would have been, his mother would be alive and his father would be happy. Maybe his father wouldn't hit John if his wife was still here. Maybe he wouldn't have killed himself either. And then maybe John wouldn't be stuck in this shitty apartment.

Dave Strider still remembers the car crash that killed his parents. It haunts him on a nightly basis. And his older brother, who has taken the responsibility of raising him, hasn't exactly been helpful. Especially when he decides to adopt a boy named John Egbert, the son of a old friend who had a tragic accident.


	2. 1: Hello Again, My Old Friend

"Dirk, it is so very nice to be able to see you again, what brings you to town this time?" Mr. Egbert takes a seat at the small table in the very crowded yet small cafe, a large cup of coffee in his hands. He has already shed his large winter jacket and his gloves, waiting for his long time friends to take a seat also.

"I had business in the area. Figured I'd stop in and see how you were doing. I heard the misses is pregnant." Dirk Strider claims his seat across from the other man, leaning back in the chair in a much more relaxed demeanor than his friend. Mr. Egbert, or as his friends call him, James, smiles softly as he looks up from his coffee.

"Oh yes, she is about four months along. I did hear something about your mother recently having another child?" Dirk nods, shifting to cross one leg over the other, glancing around the crowded shop behind tinted lenses.

"Yup, edging close to a year old now. His name is Dave. I haven't seen him since he was born though. You know how it goes, busy with work and shit. But my parents keep me updated. Apparently the little man's doing pretty well."

"Well that certainly is good to hear. Must be refreshing to have a new face around." James takes a small sip from his hot coffee before placing the cup on the table and clasping his hands together.

"So tell me Dirk, what have you been up to since we last met? It's been a while, I miss these small talks."  
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James Egbert and Dirk Strider had been friends since grade school. They seemed words apart in personality and had very opposing likes and interests but somehow they clicked anyways. James would have described their relationship as two very good friends spending a moderate amount of time together. Dirk would describe it quite differently. In his mind, they had something. They had a friendship that was special and that, at least to Dirk, was a bit more than just two friends

It took Dirk a few years to to gain enough courage to tell his good friend how he really felt about him. He had put so much effort into the words he said although he ended up getting nervous and just rambled on while James looked at him with an almost horrified look.

"Dirk! I'm not sure I quite understand what you're trying to get at considering you've been rambling for quite some time, but I assure you that your curiosity linked with the romantic interest in other men is merely a phase. I am very positive you will find yourself a nice lady one of these days, you sure do have the looks for it my friend!"

The words had stung worse than Dirk had imagined though, per usual, he let no indication of his current emotion onto his face. He had expected the rejection of his romantic feeling but for James to say his sexuality was merely a phase took him by surprise. It would take the sixteen year old months to recover from such a blow to his emotional stability. But after that, he would remain good friends with James Egbert.

That was only about five years ago but since then James had moved to Washington and Dirk to New York. Dirk had decided to ignore the blatant homophobia that James had, opting instead to keep their friendship. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Dirk was in town only for a few days while he sorted out some work. After that he would go back to his home in New York and maybe end up visiting his family in Texas. It was a shame he only had a few days to catch up with James but he supposed he would take what he could get. James drops Dirk off at the airport once his small visit was over. After a friendly hug and a few promises to visit again(along with a good luck to James with his soon to be born child) Dirk boards the plane, heading home.

Even as he watches the ground disappear slowly as the plane took off he misses James. His romantic feelings had long faded but James was still the only friend Dirk had managed to make and keep.

However, not too long after Dirk got a call that made him forget all about James, leaving their friendship behind as he adopted a little boy named Dave.


	3. 2: Hell Is For Children

April 13th, 1996 was the happiest day of James Egbert's life. It was also his proudest moment as his son was born. Holding the small child in his arms and knowing that this was the product of the love he shared with his wife seemed like small miracle to him. And so did his sons smiling and happy face. He decided to name him John. A respectable name for a boy that would grow up to be a very respectable man. At least that's what James hoped for.

But April 13th held not only happiness and pride, but grief and tragedy. His wife had not made it, she had died while giving birth.

A wife lost but a new son gained.

The only problem was, to James, his son wasn't enough to fill the void in his life that his wife once filled. She was his only love and the only women he had ever wanted to spend his life with. He had no desire to seek another woman. So he spent his days alone, wallowing in his own self-pity instead of properly taking care of his new born son.

For the first four years of John's life he was neglected, only fed or changed when his father couldn't take the constant crying any longer. At the age of five James was happy to ship John off to school every day. A few hours of peace was all the man had wanted these past years. But in the silence of the house he had nothing to do but think and reflect. It wasn't long before he started having a glass of wine whenever he felt over whelmed or upset. But just one glass of wine turned to two, and then three, and eventually he was drinking an entire bottle a day.

And then John would come home from school, always excited about something. Whether it be a drawing he did or a math test he took. He always had something he wanted to show his father. But the man was never interested. He had bigger irons in the fire. He would often yell, something he was known for not doing, and tell John he didn't care about what he did at school and to go to his room. John was understandably upset every time this happened. But he always kept trying. He tried hard to make his father proud of him. But it never worked. It wasn't until his father hit him for the first time that he really started to fear the man.

That happened when John was only seven. He was excited today, as per usual, the kid's spirit was hard to break and no amount of yelling or avoidance was going to bring him down for long. He had received an A on his spelling test today and he was happy to run home and show his father. Although he knew how the turn out would be, the child still had hope inside him that someday, maybe, his father would smile. And then he would tell John what a good job he had done and maybe even pick the boy up and hug him. John hoped so badly for this outcome.

But the only response he got to his perfect score on his spelling test was a slap to the face and cruel words, drunkenly slurred in his direction before he was locked in his room.

That night, John cried. He had cried a lot before, wondering why all the other kid's parents hugged and kissed and loved them. Wondering why his dad didn't love him. Sometimes even wondering where his mom was. But today was different. John didn't just cry, he sat in the corner of his room and sobbed. The kind of sobbing that results in large hiccups and the inability to breathe correctly.

His cheek stung and a hand print shaped bruise was forming the child's pale skin. He would not be given dinner that night.

John would stop trying to make his father proud after that. He knew the outcome and the consequences of speaking out of line now. But since the first event of physical abuse, James seemed to realize that that was another way to let his anger out.

Sometimes John would come home to find his father already waiting for him, predictably already drunk and very angry, having worked himself up in his sons absence. He would usher John over to him, the young boy would be too scared to disobey an order. It was only when he stood in front of the man, trembling with fear, that he would be hit. It would start with a smack which would be hard enough to send John to the ground. Once on the ground he would be kicked as many times as seen fit by his father. And then he was either left there to quietly whimper to himself in pain or he was grabbed by his hair and dragged to his room where he would be locked in until the next day.

It became a routine, with the abuse only getting harder as the boy grew older. Teachers noticed the obvious bruising and the sullen mood of a once cheerful boy, but they knew it wasn't their place to step in. Nobody was brave enough to ask what happened behind closed doors.

This continued and eventually, while standing if from of the James at only nine years of age, John would come to realize that this man was no more a father to him than a stranger on the street. And that, while he would eventually be relieved of this abuse, James would have to live with his own demons until the day he died.

And John pitied the man.

It wasn't long after Johns tenth birthday that he had been enlightened to the fact that his mother had died giving birth to him. And that it was all his fault. His father was especially drunk on a Saturday afternoon and after another usual round of abuse to his son he started yelling in a drunken haze about his dead wife. Screaming about how it was all John fault and that if he had never been born he would still be able to hold her in his arms.

John was an impressionable ten year old boy, of course he believed it was his fault even though he wasn't the one who decided to be born. He had never asked for the life he had been given.

Even at the age of fifteen, when by then he understood how it wasn't physically possible for the death of his mother to be his own fault, he still blamed himself for it. He blamed himself for his father's depression and alcoholism as well. He was the reason all bad things happen to them, as his father would say.

But soon John wouldn't have to worry about his father.

Because he would soon be dead.


	4. 3: Sorrow

Dave Strider was young when his parents died, only three years of age. But he can remember the accident like it was only yesterday. He shouldn't be able to remember, he was too young, but tragic events like that have a way of imprinting in a person's mind. Especially with young children.

As for what he can remember, it's not much.

He remembers a car. He was in a car. His father in the driver's seat and mother in the passengers. He can't recall where they were going. It was at night though, a cold winter night to be specific. It had just rained, the water on the road had been frozen into thin sheets of ice, waiting for unsuspecting cars to drive over them and lose control.

And that's exactly what happened to Dave's family. Minus his brother who, at the time, was at his own home in New York. Dave doesn't know what happened or when exactly. He remembers feeling nauseous, like he was spinning. It was all really loud, he could hear the crunching of the metal and his mother's screams.

After what felt like an eternity of spinning and screaming it all stopped and a young Dave was able to take in what had happened. The first thing he had noticed was the roof of the car caved in, only a few inches above his own head. The next thing he noticed was his parents.

Or, what used to be his parents.

You know that sickening feeling you get when you think you see someone or something looking at you in the dark? The way your stomach drops and your entire body goes stiff? Take that feeling, times it by ten, and that's what this young boy of only three years old went through.

The roof of the car was caved in low, crushing both his parents in the process. The entirety of the interior of the car was covered in blood, including Dave himself. It took almost ten minutes for the paramedics to show up and get Dave out of the car. Ten minutes of being trapped in a car, forced to stare of the bloody bodies of his parents.

Once help finally did arrive Dave was found sobbing in the back seat. It took only a minute to get him out. He clung to whatever police officer he was handing off to. He kept asking for his parents, not understanding that they were dead even though he saw them.

The only reason Dave survived was because he was so small.

After spending a day at the police station Daves older brother Dirk arrived from New York. He too was obviously distraught at the death of his parents but at the time he concentrated on taking care of his little brother who was just happy to see a familiar face.

It wasn't long after that that Dirk moved back to Texas, buying a small apartment on the very top floor of a skyscraper like building and moving in there with Dave. As hard as it was to get over, Dirk eventually did. Sure he missed his parents but it was something he couldn't control and he soon accepted that his parents were gone and moved on.

Dave was different.

With as young as he was he still didn't understand that his parents were gone. He asked for them constantly. To which Dirk had no answer. Along with missing his parents terribly Dave had to deal with constant nightmares about that day. He used to climb up onto the futon where Bro slept and curl up next to him, feeling safer there. But eventually Bro told him he couldn't do that anymore, and he would start bringing Dave back to his room when he came out. Dave started to hate him for it, thinking Bro was doing it because he no longer felt any love for his younger brother and therefore didn't feel the need to make sure he felt safe.

These night terrors followed Dave through his childhood. He never got a decent night's sleep. He always had bags under his eyes though nobody, not even Bro, could tell because he was never seen without his shades on.

At the age of sixteen Dave still had these nightmares, now understanding what he was seeing was the dead corpses of his parents in the front seats of their car. Bro had no idea Dave still had these nightmares and although Dave sometimes woke up screaming, Bro was a heavy sleeper.

By now the images in his dreams were even more horrifying because Dave could actually understand what he was seeing. His crushed parents, the blood everywhere. He sometimes woke up in the middle of the night just to throw up.

Bro and Dave didn't get along very well. Dave knew that Bro had no intentions to help Dave with his nightmare problem. And he sort of resented his guardian for it. It had actually became a sort of routine for Dave. He resented everything. He was bitter about life, often thinking there was no purpose because they were all going to die anyways.

Just like his parents.

Dave started thinking that there was no reason for living. Severe depression befell him as he transferred into his teen years. Of course Bro never noticed so Dave handled his constant thoughts of suicide and death by himself. He had once gone as far as to attempt to kill himself by swallowing a handful of pills but it hadn't worked. And Bro didn't even know Dave did it.

Dave was truly alone and he blamed everyone else for his own misery.


End file.
